


Lionhood

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Double Penetration, Fake AH Crew, Gangbang, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 10:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Los Santos is a city full of carnivores. Sometimes the herbivores need to get a little creative to not get chewed up and spat out.





	Lionhood

**Author's Note:**

> Warning note: some people might read this as dub-con. If that's not your cup of tea, you should probably click back out.

Trevor’s nervous as the elevator climbs higher and higher up the building. It’s a risky part of any new relationship, meeting the friends. It’s one of the factors that pushes person-you’re-seeing to boyfriend or girlfriend. He wants that with Gavin. They’re partway there. Gav’s met Alfredo, easily Trevor’s best friend. One best friend is worth a whole house party’s worth of acquaintances. But Trevor’s in way over his head, meeting all of Gavin’s closest at once. When Gavin offered him the invite, Trevor was happy for the chance to get it done in one swoop. Better than six awkward first meetings, he thought. Except now he’s three floors away from this, and he might throw up. 

“Look. Here, mate. You think I’m top, right?”

“Yeah.” Trevor likes Gavin. A lot. He’s been theoretically pansexual for awhile now, but Gavin’s the closest he’s gotten to being with a man. Sure he’s had a few fantasies about Alfredo, what could happen if his roommate was single, but Gavin’s the first kiss, first date. First suggestive coupley Instagram photo. 

“So they think I’m top too. You already know you have that in common.”

“God, you have such an ego.” But even as he’s saying it, Trevor is smiling ruefully. The sheer cockiness of Gavin’s bluster is enough to shake him out of his worry. At least a little. 

The hallway is short. It’s not quite a penthouse, there are three massive homes on this floor, as well as a floor laundry and a huge shared balcony facing Mt. Chiliad. It’s still more luxurious than anything Trevor’s seen before. Alfredo and his apartment could probably fit into one of these condo’s bathrooms. Trevor comes to the door of 2803 a few steps before Gavin, but it’s Gavin who makes the final move of knocking on the door.

The condo is open floor plan, the way high end shit always seems to be. He’s not sure who actually lives here. From what Gavin’s mentioned, it seems like Geoff owns the place, but has like ten keys printed and people crash when they need to. They all seem pretty comfortable. Geoff himself is standing in the sunken living room. Jeremy and Jack are both in the deep egg cup counter seating while Ryan is leaning against the counter. Michael’s the only one on living room furniture. He half blends in to the tufted chocolate brown sectional with his leather jacket on. What they all have in common, beyond clearly belonging in this space, is that they’re all looking at him. Trevor’s seen pictures on Gav’s phone, but this is the first time he’s seen any of these faces in 3D. And it’s _definitely_ the first time any of these faces have scrutinized him. He tries to not let it ruffle his feathers. He knew today would be about presenting himself to Gavin’s loved ones, did he think they _wouldn’t_ look at him?

“So, the thing is Gavin gets involved in a lot of one night stands. A lot of cheaters. A lot of people who want to keep it casual.”

As far as official friend introductions go, Trevor is pretty sure this has started off on the wrong foot. That’s an extremely weird thing to intro with, and while Geoff seemed calm saying it, Michael is glaring. Jack and Jeremy don’t look as cranky, but they’re bigger than he is, they need less upset to be equally off putting. Trevor knows their career choices. Gavin isn’t subtle. Every person in this room is a threat, in their own way. Trevor has never been truly disturbed by gang affiliation. It’s Los Santos. Half his high school teachers and the breadmaker at his favourite bakery were gang members, and that’s just the top of the list of acquaintances. Even in this moment, Trevor’s still more uncomfortable about upsetting best friends than upsetting gang members.

“We don’t really get it, but Gavin somehow attracts the guys that only want to fuck once.”

“That’s not me.” Trevor’s had a few weeks of hang outs and dates, and he hasn’t brought up fucking yet. He’s a virgin with dudes, and Gavin’s got a low drive. Or so he’s assumed. This whole time it’s been a once burned twice shy thing, albeit it with the numbers been significantly higher than one and two. Glancing at Gavin, his expression only proves Geoff’s telling nothing but the truth. Brave of him, then, to offer his personal life to Trevor so soon. 

“Yeah. Okay,” Ryan says. If the expressions are anything to go by, he speaks for the group. This has somehow become a shovel talk, and Trevor prepped for a slightly egotistic first greeting, not a provide examples of purity interrogation. He’s not sure he can make the cut on the fly like this.

“No, really. I like Gavin, I think he’s really cool. Way too interesting to dump suddenly.”

“Yeah.” This time it’s Jeremy offering bland agreement. 

Clearly they don’t believe him. Which sucks. Trevor is a lot of things, but liar isn’t one of them. He tugs on the hem of his shirt -unless it’s Fredo’s, he’s not really sure- and tries to not catastrophize about dating Gavin when his entire circle hates him. It could work, even if everyone Gav cares about hates him, right? Right?

“So the way this works is you have five one night stands tonight, and then you get Gavin.”

Trevor laughs. They don’t. Michael tries to slice his face off with the force of his glare. “Uh. Explain?”

Geoff shrugs, a black shape of a man against the sunlight streaming through the wide bare window. “Pretty basic, Collins. You get it out of your system tonight, and we know Gavin’s safe with you.”

“You couldn’t just threaten me with a shotgun?”

“Do we look like the kind of guys that would kill our own marks?”

The _you’re the kind of guys that have cocks_ bursts out half hysterically. No one replies. Trevor looks at Gavin, sure he’s about to tell his friends they’re being ridiculous.

He shrugs. “I’m not saying I’m worth it. It’s your choice.”

Trevor’s a little freaked out. A lot, even. But he likes Gavin, and for Gavin to think he’s not worth something as basic as sex is depressing, and needs to be fixed. “Uh. Okay? I guess?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m good.” Or at least he will be when he and Gavin are crammed into his bed, the double mattress taking up most of the space in his small room, jeans damp against each other from snuggling without air conditioning. Trevor’s daydreamed about gay sex, and he’s fingered himself while jerking off. How bad could actual fucking possibly be?

It’s strange, how quickly things start. It still seems like a hypothetical offer when Jeremy slides off the tan kitchen stool and strides across the room to Trevor. He’s much shorter in person. Trevor’s seen pics, of course, but they don’t compare to real life and Jeremy topping out to mid-chest. It’s funny how that doesn’t seem to matter one iota when Jeremy grabs the collar of his crew neck shirt and yanks him down for a rough kiss. It’s just past noon and the counter is bare but Jeremy tastes like whiskey. 

Jeremy breaks the kiss briefly to take his orange shirt off. Underneath he’s wearing a purple undershirt. Trevor remembers Gavin saying Lil J has a penchant for orange and purple, but he didn’t expect it to go as far as coordinating underwear. Trevor figures it’s best to follow suit. His shirt was a semi-hipster ironic art Redbubble shirt, the kind of shirt you wear to impress the young crowd. Now it’s conversation potential is wasted, crumpled on the floor. 

“Take your fuckin’ pants off,” Michael commands, still positioned on the couch. 

Trevor takes his fucking pants off. And the moment he’s standing naked, Jeremy pushes him towards the couch. It’s a easy leap to make it over the top of the sectional, backrest being low. Jeremy follows him, and within seconds Trevor is pinned to the cushions, all of J’s beefy weight on him. 

The proof of Gavin’s friends having planned this all along -not that that was much in doubt- is the basket placed on the floor. It’s got a huge bottle of lube, enough condoms to choke a whale, a water bottle, a cloth, and a few sex toys. Unseen from the front door, it’s within Jeremy’s reach without having to get off of Trevor. Jeremy extends an arm to get the lube, and adjusts so he can pour it onto his palm. Then he’s stroking them both together, slippery hand bringing them to attention. 

After a minute Jeremy stops the mutual handjob. He uses his unyielding strength to roll them both onto their sides, and once that’s done folds Trevor’s upper leg into a triangle. It’s a position that gives Jeremy room to get fingers to his asshole. It’s also a position that lets Trevor see exactly where Gavin is. Trevor kind of thought Gavin would wander off, not wanting to witness his soon to be boyfriend with everyone he knows. But he stayed. He’s scrawny enough to be comfortably perched on the side of the tv stand. He watches as Jeremy slowly fingers his way deep into Trevor, and Trevor squirms under the attention. Yeah everyone else is watching too, but it’s Gavin who’s reaction he cares about. 

Jeremy pulls his fingers out once he’s reached three. Trevor occasionally gets up to four when he’s playing with himself but Jeremy’s fingers are thicker. For a minute he has Jeremy’s full weight on him, as he stretches over him to reach a condom, but soon enough he’s being spooned again. Trevor can feel the head of Jeremy’s cock press against his asshole, and he knows he blushes the moment Jeremy breaches. He’s being fucked now. This is no longer something he can give Gavin. But it’s okay. It’s okay, because Gavin likes flash over substance, most of the time, and if getting fucked literally five ways from Sunday will teach him how to best impress Gavin in bed, so be it. 

Jeremy pushes into him slowly and steadily. He doesn’t overwhelm Trevor but he doesn’t allow Trevor a breather either. Not until Jeremy’s fully sheathed. Trevor’s mouth hangs open as he freezes on an exhaled gasp. He’s imagined what it would feel like to get fucked, but daydreams don’t have this kind of sensation. 

As he adjusts to the feeling of being stretched open, back firmly against chiseled pecs, Trevor’s eyes open again. The first thing he sees is the way Gavin is looking at him, and it feels amazing. Gavin’s in awe with him. That’s the kind of ego boost that lets Trevor relax his body and let this happen. Lets him want this to be happening.

Jeremy uses Trevor’s newfound slinky attitude to start undulating into him. It starts as a waving rhythm, big loose waves, like Blake Lively after hours with a hairstylist. Trevor curls his hand around his dick and lets Jeremy’s rhythm dictate the speed of his jerking off. When Jeremy quickens, so does Trevor. The waves morph to medium; less undulation, more jutting forward. Trevor couldn’t say what he likes better, but considering the afternoon in front of him will have lots of chances to form an opinion.

“Holy shit, Trevor,” Gavin says. “This is all I’m going to see the next time we’re grabbing coffee.”

“We’re sorry. He’s an idiot who can’t talk.” 

“He means that in a good way, believe it or not.” 

“Like he thinks of you sexily at random times.”

“Yeah, I know.” He finds it a little funny Gavin’s friends are trying to ease him through a perceived bad trait, while half the reason Trevor’s attracted to Gavin is because of his unique outlook on life. 

Jeremy speeds up again. This time the fuck is like a YouTube video on one and a half times playback. Fast, and trippy in its disjointedness. Trevor doesn’t know how to jerk off to match this rhythm, so he just rings his thumb and index finger loosely around his shaft and lets Jeremy control it. He’d kill for a little more wetness, but he can’t remember where the lube bottle ended up. 

In the end, Trevor doesn’t need a fist full of KY, a tight wank, or even a hickey. He comes regardless, Jeremy’s cock rabbiting into him, stimulating him like nothing else ever has. Being the outer layer of the spooning, Trevor has nowhere to unload except the floor, once the spunk overflows his fingers. He can hear a outcry of angry disgust, and is oddly confident that it’s Michael. Gavin’s made it clear his boi is a clean freak, floor-jizz is probably offensive to him.

Jeremy slows to a stop. Trevor finds himself with hands on his hips, firm grip pulling him as close to Jeremy as possible. His asshole is touching pubes, Jeremy holding him still enough that he can feel the throb of Jeremy’s cock pulsing out come. 

There’s not a hell of a lot of afterglow. Not that Trevor should be expecting it, of course. He’s here for something specific, and it really doesn’t involve copious cuddling, he gets that. But within seconds Jeremy is maneuvering himself out and up, and before Trevor knows it they’re both sitting, Trevor with his back to Michael on the perpendicular part of the sectional.

Jeremy says, “awesome” and claps his shoulder. 

There’s been times Trevor’s touched his ass after coming. Times he’s considered pushing things a little further, see if he can reach for another orgasm in a marathon session. It always feels like this. Antsy, an ache in his lower stomach. Half his focus in his asshole, which is twitching like it’s beckoning him. The difference is this time, there stands Ryan Haywood, one of the only last names he remembers because Gavin has so many nicknames and jokes based off of it.

Ryan sits down beside him. Not only is he not wearing the blue and black jacket featured in every picture Gavin has of Ryan, he’s not wearing anything. A time saving feature, sure, but it’s the first time Trevor’s been confronted with cock like this, excepting the occasional porn he can exit out of if he wants to. Ryan’s cock on the other hand, is very present, nestled in a bed of blond pubes. Trevor’s suddenly brutally aware of his flaccid prick, absolutely sad in comparison to Ryan’s proud erection.

“Come here,” Ryan orders. Trevor’s not sure he can get closer than thigh to thigh, until he clues in and moves to straddle Ryan. So close he can smell Ryan’s aftershave. So close he can see that Ryan’s got traces of eyeliner on. 

As it turns out, sitting on a cock provides a totally different angle of penetration. Trevor swiftly goes from dirtily relieved to be stretched again, to biting his lip as his already stimulated prostate starts screaming at him. He hasn’t even moved yet and he already feels like he’s being fucked.

When Ryan bucks up for the first time, Trevor’s limbs react in their own ways. His head drops. His thighs tense. His arms reach out so he can grab Ryan’s shoulders. 

“You can scratch,” Ryan informs him. Trevor’s not sure how he feels about the granted permission. Before, if he’d done it it would have just been something that had happened to occur. Now if he does it, if he digs his nails into Ryan, it has to be because he’s chosen to do it. He’ll be the kind of lover that inflicts pain, when given the option.

Because he’s not sure if he’s up for being That Guy, Trevor carefully keeps the last knuckles on his hands flat. He can squeeze Ryan without getting his nails in. Instead he does his best to channel his need into his hips, and the way he’s pushing himself up and down Ryan’s cock. No doubt Ryan enjoys that form of need more too.

It’s sweaty work, riding Ryan with vigor. His hair is long enough to droop as his gel melts, droop and stick to his forehead. He suddenly gets why the water bottle was included in the sex kit. Trevor’s not quite hot enough to stop the fuck just for a swig, but after this round is done, for sure.

“Get up. Get up!” 

Trevor’s never heard of a guy not wanting to be inside someone as he comes, but there’s a first time for everything, apparently. He raises himself off of Ryan and settles backwards onto his thighs. Unless he gets another verbal push away, Trevor’s at least going to be close enough to see Ryan’s muscles tense with orgasm. He’s earned that vision.

He thinks about helping Ryan to completion but Ryan quickly proves he doesn’t need help. He peels off his condom and discards it to the floor, Michael groaning but saying nothing, then starts jerking himself. Within five strokes he begins to come, shooting straight up. Trevor makes to lean back, but Ryan puts his left arm across Trevor’s back, keeping him in place. With his right hand aiming Ryan manages to unload entirely on Trevor’s neck and face. He can’t open his mouth for fear of getting jizz on his teeth, so he just lets Ryan coat him with it.

Ryan’s hands land on his hips. Then, like his weight is nothing, Ryan’s lifting him into standing. Trevor wouldn’t have pegged him the muscle of the gang, not even a contender against Jack’s build and Jeremy’s muscles and Michael’s rabid dog ferociousness, but evidently he’s good for a fireman carry in a shootout. Trevor’s happy that Gavin has that in his life.

“You’re sweaty,” Ryan says shortly. He dukes around Trevor to get the water out of the supply basket and holds it out. Trevor takes it. Mostly to rinse the ejaculate off his face, and some of the melted gel out, but he gets to drink a little too. Trevor’s not offended by Ryan’s short words, by the very little he’s said to acknowledge him during their screw. He knows from Gavin that Ryan tends to flub his words, a mistake made worse by new company. It’s hard to deliver a shovel talk when each word is a gamble.

Dripping wet, but relatively clean, Trevor swoops in for a kiss with Gavin. He wonders if he tastes like Jeremy’s whiskey, or Ryan’s come. If he does, Gavin doesn’t flinch. 

“I’m still into you, but a little warning would have been nice,” he comments.

“Sorry, Treyco,” Gavin says.

“Warning gives people time to make excuses,” Geoff says sharply. Gavin hasn’t much detailed who does what in his crew, even the idea of a crew was mostly picked up from hints. The longer Trevor’s in the room, the more certain he is that Geoff is their kingpin. He has a lot of opinions.

Jack’s Hawaiian shirt is open when he approaches, shorts still on. “Do you want me to finger you open?”

“No, just do it.” Two people have fucked him, he couldn’t be any more open. 

Jack leads him once again to the leg of the sectional that Michael’s not on. Apparently no one’s going to fuck him on a bed tonight. That’s fine, it’s not like the upscale couch isn’t a better quality than his twin mattress anyway. Plus it might be a little weird to get banged three more times in the guest room before he’s ever had permission to stay the night.

Jack crowds Trevor against the back of the couch. He has to wonder for a second his neat freak Michael feels about precome and bottled water smeared on the fabric. He even considers making smirking eye contact. Then Jack makes his move, and Trevor is swept away from the idea. Literally, almost. Jack’s hefted him up by the thighs, propping his pelvis on the top of the couch. Trevor instinctively throws out his arms to brace him up. He knows there’s only so long he can hold push up position, though. Sooner or later he’s going to wind up with his chest on the backrest, and his hair picking up static electricity from the cushion.

If Ryan’s fuck started with a measure of control, Jack is the exact opposite. This wheelbarrow position takes away any leverage Trevor could have. The best that could be said is his core is tight and his ass is tight around Jack’s crazy girth, but it’s hardly a power move to clench down when it’s not a choice. Maybe if he was a yoga master he could have more control. As it is, Trevor’s just impressed he’s actually fitting all of Jack inside himself. 

“I know you want to come. Twinky little bottom boys always want to come.” 

How can Trevor dispute that? Jack is doing a number on his prostate. Funny how when your centre of gravity changes to your asshole, it becomes sensitive. He opens his mouth to say something of the kind, something to explain, and what comes out is “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” 

“Yeah, of course I will. I can make you feel all over better, you just have to let me,” Jack croons.

Jack gets him there. Not a slight against Ryan, but Jack makes it happen. Trevor’s arms are shaking wildly, moments away from collapse. His belly is burning, there’s probably a fifty fifty chance of a pressure bruise tomorrow. All the blood is rushing to his face as his neck loses ability to hold his head up. One of his feet is going numb. If Trevor had to describe the feelings to a stranger they’d assume he’s hating it, merely withstanding it, but the truth is all the out of control sensations make it all the better. He’s hit with the sudden realization that if Gavin invited him to a firefight for a date he’d probably go. It feels good for his body and his situation to be intense, overwhelming, for the only noise to be his pulse pounding in his ears. So good that on a particularly deep thrust he spills himself all over the top of the couch. Not that it matters. Jack doesn’t stop, because he’s not done, and right now it’s his show. 

Trevor gives up all pretence of controlling his body and slumps down. He lets his elbows unlock. He’ll slide forward and break his neck if Jack doesn’t take him, but he’s unconcerned. It’s been abundantly clear from the beginning of his third fuck that Jack is a take charge, planning sort. Another personality type Trevor’s glad Gavin has on the streets. Sure enough, Jack just grabs him all the more firmly and continues his plowing. Never mind a pressure bruise against his abdomen, Trevor might have Jack’s fingerprints on him tomorrow.

Coming doesn’t seem the phase Jack. Not that he doesn’t enjoy it. You’d have to be one fucked up person to dislike orgasms. Jack just doesn’t have any of the classic tells. He doesn’t pant, or grunt, or tense up. He doesn’t even get loose and noodley afterwards. On the contrary, he stands Trevor up and cradles him in a bear hug until Trevor gets his barings, making fine work out of all his limbs.

After Jack, Trevor’s got no strength to protest when Michael yanks him over the backrest, much like Jeremy. This time however he’s on top. It’s Michael’s back to the microseude. For an instant Trevor allows himself to imagine fucking Michael. All it would take is rolling over and being the most cocky he’s ever been. It’s a persona he had moderately in mind coming to the penthouse, based on what he thought Gavin’s friends would be into. He can be cocky, if need be. The dream dies as Michael’s hand slides between his legs and dips two fingers into his ass as easy as putting them into an ice cream cone. 

Michael flexes his fingers until they hit the opposite wall. “Oh, Jack’s really stretched you out. That’s good. You don’t get how good that is for you.”

Michael slips his cock in easily. After the mighty girth that is Jack, Michael’s easy to take. It’s a strange angle, still being on his back like a stuck turtle, but it’s nothing he needs to be super prepped for. Michael’s got lofty opinions of himself, apparently. 

Trevor’s his fourth fuck into five, and he’s still enjoying it. Society would be saying something bad about him by now, but fuck society. Michael’s bucking into him steadily, and that sensation is worth more than some prude’s acceptance. His eyes are clenched and his arms are bent down, hands rubbing Michael’s hips as Michael undulates. He lets the feeling of it become the only thing that matters, lets the whole world fade away.

That’s why it startles him to feel the couch cushions dip, and open his eyes to Geoff. The leader of all this, the person Gavin would willingly follow into hell, is sitting naked at his feet. He clasps Michael’s leg first. Michael lets out a little ‘hey Geoff’, the friendliest he’s seemed since Trevor walked in the door. Geoff grabs him next, starting with his calf, then moving up.

Geoff doesn’t stop until he’s kneeling over them, hand on Trevor’s pubes. He’s a handsome man. Sort of the male version of manic pixie, he’s a dude who’s quirky enough you feel disarmed around, until he shoots you to the ground. Trevor vaulted right over the easygoing portion, right to the pinning down, but he can still see the quirk in the handlebar mustache and all the hipster tattoos. He can see it, and he can see the way the other guys settle around him, when according to Gavin’s stories they’re all wildcards normally. It’s enough to make him not push Geoff’s hand away, to accept where Geoff’s offering for it to go.

He doesn’t see who passes Geoff a bottle of lube, only that Geoff uses a spiral motion to get the coffee scented fluid on his cock. Trevor didn’t even know hazelnut expresso was a lube flavour. It’s not exactly stocked at his local drugmart, where plasticy tasting fruit flavours reign. Geoff inhales, exhales with satisfaction. “I love that smell.”

“We know, boss,” Jeremy says, clearly still somewhere in the room. Maybe bare-assed and hairy on one of the egg shaped kitchen stools. 

“The only coffee that will never make a guy shit his pants,” Geoff continues, inhaling the scent again.

Trevor has nothing to say to that. He’s heard Gavin complain about the cons of coffee too, but he’s never had any kind of problem with it. 

Leaving his cock for a moment, Geoff moves to Trevor’s taint. His wet fingers prod at his prostate, movement hard enough to actually reach it. It’s a different angle than Michael’s providing stimulation for, and the double assault brings a gasp to Trevor’s lips.

The first finger that Geoff touches his asshole with is his middle. Trevor can look down the length of his body and see a hell of a lot of what Geoff’s doing, and right now there are four fingers curled up to get out of the way. Geoff’s finger presses against his rim, then slowly pushes past. It feels fine, doesn’t hurt. Jack was _big_ , he can handle Michael and a finger.

Except, of course it doesn’t stop there. Geoff keeps going and going, adding a squirt or two more lubricant as he works his fingers deep. Trevor assumes the gesture is for the fresh wave of scent, because he’s so wet Thumbelina could drown in him. He can hear the squelch when Michael fucks him. Geoff keeps going until the most sensitive part of Trevor is being stretched by four fingers splayed in a half-ring around Michael’s cock. It’s beyond comprehension, and Trevor knows it’s only going to get more wild.

After a minute more fingerfucking, Geoff removes his hand from Trevor’s ass. With a bit of teamwork they rearrange so that Michael’s right foot is braced against the floor, and Geoff can stand between Trevor’s spread legs. 

“Come on Geoff, you’ve got it,” Michael urges.

Trevor’s not sure how Geoff needs the motivational words in this scenario. He’s the one about to have two dicks him. Thing is, he’s just too strung out to care about favouritism. And why should he be surprised? The group’s intense care for Gavin is why he’s in this position. Of course Michael has more interest in another of his group members. It just does something to him, makes him want to impress Michael.

Geoff takes one last moment to smear some coffee lubricant on his condom covered cock, and then pushes his way into Trevor. Trevor’s glad it hurts. It would be embarrassing if he could take two guys easily. There’s a difference between a slut and a whore after all.

“I’m sure you think we’re being overprotective,” Geoff begins to lecture.

Trevor might give his agreement if he could do anything except gasp and twitch. Unfortunately for any of the sarcastic remarks queued up, these beginning thrusts are the only thing his body is allowing in or out. Talking is entirely offline.

“We just really love our Gavvers and so many people have shown they don’t possess an ounce of commitment.”

“There’s only so many condos you can burn down before the cops start looking for a serial arsonist,” Michael adds. Trevor’s almost certain he’s not joking. Shovel talks with people with body counts are a little more real than from a Willow Rosenburg type. At least season five Willow.

Michael and Geoff are a study in contrast and similarity. One is Gavin’s best friend ever, his boi. The other is Gavin’s boss, Gavin’s turn to in hard times. They inspire different feelings. Both are chatty during sex, but they speak to him in different ways. Geoff is dominant. Michael’s more conversational; statements of how this feels for him, hints about his daily life which in turn make Trevor imagine Gavin’s life when they’re not together. Neither get out of breath, no matter how many strokes in they are. Trevor can only assume they do a lot of running and parkouring away from cops during the week. Neither try to kiss him, but Michael is hugging him from behind with big biceps while Geoff’s barely touching him. And both of them are fucking him with their own best technique. Geoff’s circling his hips, cock moving like a figure eight. Michael’s thrusting slowly, purposefully. It feels like every millimeter of his ass is being touched at once, and Trevor thinks he might be drooling. It’s gone from painful to mindbending, and he’s already wondering how much a big dildo would cost. Gavin will fuck him when they hang out, and he’ll have his toy for the lonely nights.

Trevor’s not even surprised when his body explodes for a third time. Between these two men how could he not? His come splatters up his chest, thinner than normal. That kind of thing only happens during marathon sessions, when he’s decided to commit the day to getting off. This is like night and day to one of those sessions, but it’s still more than enough to make Trevor spill out like water.

Michael’s next. Trevor can’t blame him. Holding out as long as he has is a feat in itself. He grunts when he comes, grunts like he’s being tazed. Trevor stores the sound somewhere deep in his brain, the dark place where fucking so many people at once is something to be proud of. Michael’s fingers tighten on Trevor’s ribs as he empties himself into the condom. Michael does Trevor the favour of choosing to soften inside him, so Trevor doesn’t lose any of the pole of flesh keeping him open. It’s not the kind of thing you say thanks for, but Trevor thinks it.

Geoff doesn’t prolong the sex much longer. The cycle of his hips stops, morphs into more rapid thrusting. Geoff fucks like he’s trying to bore a hole in Trevor, creating a spot to leave himself. Trevor’s hands starfish and clench of their own volition. His mouth is gaping open again. He can’t come a fourth time, he’ll die of dehydration. That truth doesn’t change how a few last shoves of dickhead to prostate has Trevor’s stomach cramping, eyes slamming shut.

Trevor feels hollow when they pull out. Geoff first, taking an awkward step or two backwards while holding his come filled condom tight on his dick so he doesn’t leak onto the floor. Michael toys with him one last time, moving Trevor into a sitting position, making him feel every last inch of pulling off. He feels as open as unzipped luggage, and isn’t sure how long that’ll take to change. He almost wishes there was another member of the gang. Feeling spread wide is fine when you’re full of cock. Gaping like a tunnel when you’re empty is not.

Geoff comes to him with water. A second later Gavin tosses him what looks like a piece of freshly laundered clothing. Trevor recognizes it as a favourite shirt of Gavin’s. Trevor focuses on letting his gulp linger in his mouth until the chilled water becomes warm. He doesn’t want to chug it all and get a bellyache. The taste of it distracts from his slowly closing asshole and how exposed he feels. He mops up all the sweat with the shirt, and if that’s not what Gav meant by the gesture, well, too bad.

“You two staying over for a bit? Jack found this barbecue sauce recipe he wants to try.”

“Eh,” Gavin starts. “Up to Treyco, lads.”

And just like that he’s accepted. Fuck some dudes and get invited to dinner. Trevor’s not entirely sure he wants to stay. Who couldn’t use a bit of downtime after getting pounded by five guys? On the other hand, all of that was to show Gavin he’s worth a bit of effort. Leaving before actually making acquaintance isn’t showing that vital relationship characteristic. 

Either way, he needs to get dressed. Trevor doesn’t bother asking where the bathroom is. He’s about eighty seven steps beyond that now. He just gets up from the thoroughly defiled couch and retrieves the pile of cotton and denim. It’s like he’s back in high school gym class, forcing his street clothes back on at the end of the period. He can only hope they don’t soak up the sweat and residual fluids too much. Though his underwear next to his lubey ass seems like a lost cause already.

Go, or stay? If Trevor leaves, all he’ll do at home is think. The dark smutty place in his brain is full of new material to shamefully jerk off about. There’s Jack’s strength and forcefulness. There’s Gavin watching him fuck other people. There’s Michael’s orgasm noise, and Ryan’s almost indifference, and Geoff’s power imbalance. In no other sexual situation would you come out of it with twelve new kinks. Maybe gangbangs have their place. Beyond proving to Gavin he’s worthy of the world of love, Trevor’s also got his third eye open to facets of his personality. If he stays he’ll be distracted from delving deep into his mind, but he will have to keep trying to blend in. Not as easy as it sounds. It’s like they’re a pride of lions and he’s an antelope that’s gained just enough cred to not be devoured yet. 

Fake it ‘til you make it, he thinks. Trevor can be the wild beast they respect, he’s sure of it.


End file.
